


Ready to Smile

by Voido



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Canon-Compliant, Confessions, Falling In Love, Healing, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Kisses, M/M, Mourning, Post Season/Series 08, Post-Canon, Spoilers for Season 8, The rest of the team is only mentioned - Freeform, Visiting home, episodic, many hugs, not for raisin, obviously, the MFE appear in like one scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-23 22:29:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17088935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voido/pseuds/Voido
Summary: The war is won, but the price was high. While Lance hides away in the place he calls home, Keith buries his feelings in work and denial.With time, they learn that what they truly need lies within each other, and that the future is theirs to claim.Together.





	Ready to Smile

**Author's Note:**

> I...do not want to speak of season 8. It was terrible, and I'm pretty certain that this is the only canon-compliant fic I'm going to write, because I'm not ready to accept Allura's death, and I doubt I will ever be. It was just...not well done, and I'm disappointed in too many plot holes and....ugh.  
> Either way, I felt the desperate need to give my boys some post-canon love, because in my heart, they will forever be real. <3

_Change comes slowly_ , was the first thing Keith learned after the war was finally over. Even with the combined powers of former enemies, with dedication and will, there was only so much that could be accomplished in a short amount of time. That was okay, though, because he'd also learned to be patient a long, long time ago.

The humanitarian project was a great success—people worked together willingly, which was a very pleasant surprise, and seeing planets being rebuilt was what gave hope to them all; the prospect of a positive, welcoming future. He'd grown closer to his family, to his mother and the rest of the former Blades, but also to the people they helped, rescued and supported.

Keith still didn't consider himself the best when it came to dealing with social situations, but he was slowly warming up to it, getting used to being around people who cared for him, people he cared for, and making a change. In a way, it was just like fighting the war together, except _better_.

They were wrapping up their work on a small planet with only few inhabitants, when the sight of bright blue water flooding the shores in the distance caught his eye. Thinking about it, the atmosphere was highly similar to earth's, and Keith was unable to say if this fact reminded him of good memories or bad ones.

 _Maybe both_ , he decided and climbed up to the rooftop up a small housing he had just rebuilt. It wasn't high enough to see far into the distance, but enough to make out where water carefully brushed against glowing stone, a quiet and distant memory of the past and the future. Somehow, it left him melancholic, longing for something he wasn't able to pinpoint. In him arose the urge to flee, to go _home_ , to a place he couldn't name, and hide away from the cruelty of the world. It was as if the soundless waves were mirrored in his mind, veiling his confused thoughts and urging him to reach out, jump in, search for what he had lost somewhere along the way.

Deep down, he was just a bit scared of learning the truth. And even deeper down, he'd already _known_ it for longer than he would be able to say. He stared, at how the rays from this system's sun were reflected on the water, the sand, the metal of their tools.

"You seem lost."

Without turning around, he nodded shortly, took a deep breath and jumped back to the ground, turning his back on the sea that reminded him of so many things that he missed, that he'd abandoned, left behind for the sake of a future he wasn't sure he'd be able to bear.

He'd decided to make this change, knowing how painful it would be, how much it would ask of him. No matter how slowly it would come, no matter when it would guide him into the future, he knew that this was his choice, and he wouldn’t regret making it.

——————————

The decision to go _home_ was a rather spontaneous one. Acxa mentioned an incoming message the team had received, a polite smile playing around her lips when she handed Keith the device so he could listen to it. It turned out to be an invitation from Pidge; nothing urgent, that much Keith knew, but when he checked the corner of the display for the current date back on earth, he realized that he hadn't been there in months, and he was well aware that Pidge calling him home wasn't a question—it was an _order.  
_

He chuckled dryly, handed the communicator back to Acxa with a short nod and continued this work. _Just one more planet_ , that was what he’d told himself every time. One more planet before they would take a break.

Or so he thought.

Because whenever it seemed like they were going to enjoy an intermission they all knew they deserved, someone ended up suggesting their next destination, or they received a help request, and eventually, they kept moving without ever letting themselves get the rest they needed. In a way, it was hard for them to let go of the past, of always moving, of never letting anything get in the way of the mission, so moving onward constantly was almost natural, a necessity for all of them to not lose their way.

Considering all of this, Keith was almost glad that Pidge had made a decision for them, or at least for him. She'd called him a workaholic countless times in the past, which was a little hypocritical, since she _really_ wasn't in the position to accuse anyone of that, but she always did it in a supportive, caring way, so he didn’t mind it.

It was nice to know that even if he was so far away, galaxies apart from his friends, they would always welcome him back with open arms, with warm smiles and tight embraces and all the love that there was to give in the world. Sometimes, being so far from them hurt, reminded him of lonelier times, and occasionally, he found himself staring into the sky, the cosmic wolf to his side, reaching for stars so far away that he might never be able to reach them, while wishing to go back to the place he held closest in his heart.

 _I miss you_ , he would think then, and with a dull, throbbing ache embracing his heart, he would find that he didn't know if those words were directed towards all of his friends or one in particular. Then, with a knot forming in his throat, he would chuckle dryly, shake his head and run a hand over his face, painfully aware of the truth that he'd long but known he was hiding from.

And then he would dream, of alternatives, of futures, of the past, of the things that had never been and would never be, but he would dream them anyway, allow himself this moment of silence, of personal intimacy, of selfish egoism, of a wish he had long but given up on, moved on from, filed as impossible to fulfill and ridiculous to believe in.

"I miss you," he would say out loud, his voice carefully forming the words, his mind cautiously allowing them, just then and there, where no one could hear them or judge him for saying it out loud. Never did it last, never long enough to give him hope, but long enough to go on for just one more day.

He couldn't deny that he was avoiding the encounter, the meet-up with what he'd bottled up for months, _years_ even, everything he'd held back for the sake of peace, for making things easier for all of them, for allowing _him_ to be happy, no matter what it took.

"You're accepting the invitation."

It wasn't a question or a judgmental statement, but there was a certain edge to Krolia's voice that urged him to be careful with the decision, although she was aware that he'd already made one, disregarding the possible consequences, knowing that overthinking it now would cause his resolve to falter, and eventually make him regret not going after all.

They didn't bring the topic up again, not even once, and when they finished restorations on the planet, preparing to head in different directions, the hug they shared was certain, loving, longing, hopeful and trusting. Both of them knew it wouldn't be forever, they weren't actually _leaving_ each other, just spending some time apart, and they would keep in contact and they would both be alright, no matter what.

"I love you, Keith," she whispered fondly, not letting go of him before he did.

"I love you, too, mom."

They would find each other again, no matter what.

——————————

The way home didn't take as long as Keith had expected. It wasn't anywhere close to the speed of the lions, let alone the castle, but it made the trip short enough for him to not question the decision. If anything went wrong, whatever that could be, if the Blade needed him for something, he'd be able to make it back quickly enough. There was no need to worry.

He worried either way.

Maybe not so much about his mother and partners, his allies and the countless people they helped out there, but primarily about his arrival, about the things that had changed in his absence, even if it hadn't been too long. Time seemed to go by twice as quickly as usual these days, where they all constantly had their hands full with the most diverse things imaginable. The idea of seeing his friends again was liberating, yes, and yet he couldn't help dread it a little, too. He'd kept in contact with Pidge, which was a given, considering she occasionally interrogated him about the countless different planets and orbital constructions he'd come across. Sometimes, Hunk would be there, too, or Shiro or even Coran, and all of them seemed well-rested, content and, at least for the most of it, happy.

But they couldn't make up for the one who was missing, the one whose smile should be light up on the screen, whose voice should fill the silence of the void way too loudly, intrusively. Keith knew _why_ he never got to hear the voice he longed for; he'd known it long before his departure, but with every passing day without a single message, he found himself unable to disregard his concern, to ignore his worry and pretend that things were alright. Because nothing was, in any way, _alright_.

This was only emphasized even more when he found himself pulled in by the familiar gravity in earth's atmosphere, rushed through clouds and traveled over shining blue oceans on the way home. There was no need to hover over the water, to watch the small, raging waves, other than how much it reminded him of the wild, pretty eyes he hadn't seen in what felt like forever, and how much he longed for their meeting, yet couldn't help but worry.

Things had changed, there was no way to deny that. They had parted, chosen different paths in life, and while Keith had kept finding—his mother, his past, his place to be, a purpose—he knew that for Lance, it was the opposite; he had lost—the woman he loved, his lion to feel home in, a reason to search for something beyond the home he had returned to. He'd never said it, but his sloppy, unconvincing smile when they had parted was something Keith knew he would never forget; it had been sad, melancholic, hopeless, all attributes that he'd never associated with Lance in the past.

Sometimes, Keith wondered if he could have done something differently, if there would have been a way for him to filter the pain out of the tormented smile, to give those expressive eyes their original shine back, anything to make sure that there was something worth fighting for in Lance's future, too; but nothing came to mind. Pushing him wouldn't have helped, not when he hadn't been ready to try and move on.

Part of Keith feared that Lance would still not be ready, that they would meet and realize that everything still hurt as much as it had back then, when they'd promised each other that they wouldn't lose hope. And then, even worse, he imagined what it would be like if Lance weren't there at all, if he'd decided to stay away from the group for whatever reason, and Keith despised those thoughts, wished he could get rid of them somehow, but they plagued his mind like a virus, invaded each and every one of his waking thoughts.

Then he arrived, and Pidge was there and so was Hunk and Shiro and even Coran, and Keith looked at them, smiled, but let his eyes wander, and then, somewhere a step too far behind the group, smiling shyly, weakly, so visibly tired and exhausted, there was Lance, a shadow of his old self, hiding the pain behind pretty flowers and a cocky wink. Both of them knew that none of this was right, that they wouldn't be able to go on like this forever, but neither of them brought it up, and they shared smiles and laughs and hugs with everyone, spoke about what was going on in their lives, exaggerated on the good things, left out the bad ones. They managed to forget, just for a while, and actually enjoyed themselves, watched the sun set and the moon rise and the stars shine brightly, and they fell silent and found a quiet spot a little distant from the team, lying on their backs and staring up to the sky.

"It's good to see you," Lance said, punching Keith's shoulder playfully and grinning, and it almost looked as if it wasn't forced.

 _I missed you, too_ , Keith thought to himself.

"It's been a while," he said then, and for this very moment, that was it, and it was enough to find comfort in each other, to go on for another day, to keep their fears and insecurities and embrace this moment of peace, knowing that the truth would come crashing down, but momentarily protected from it by nothing but each other's presence.

They kept watching in silence, the moon and the stars and how they shimmered in the dark, kept listening to every tiny sound dancing in the air, kept reaching out silently, to make sure the other could take it, and eventually made their way back to go to bed, to get enough rest for another day, and hope that after a long slumber, things would be just a little easier.

They weren't.

Painful awareness kept pounding in Keith's chest, made it hard for him to breathe, to find peace or solace. It was dull, a constant reminder of what they had lost, of how it had broken them, on how it would never come back. He knew that, one day at a time, it should heal, but something was missing, and the gaping hole the truth had left in them was something he couldn't find a fix for, even though he'd tried.

At least he told himself he had.

Looking back, though, he wasn't sure if that was true. After all had been done, he'd thrown himself into the work alongside the Blade; not that he regretted this. The people out there still needed someone to assist, maybe even guide them. Going out there and helping those in need was something Keith refused to regret, but he still couldn't deny that it had been a way to cope with what he hadn't been ready to face.

Now, months later, he felt like it was even harder to deal with, because he couldn't measure what had changed, how everyone else had truly accustomed to their new lives, and bringing it up in a group meeting felt wrong and out of place. This was supposed to be something fragile, private, and he kept his mouth shut and waited and hoped, and ignored how much it hurt to see those lies, to add to them, to pretend that with the war done, they were all going to be okay. He was, undoubtedly, happy for each member of the team who'd been able to move on, but it wasn't the case for all of them, at least not yet.

Change still came terribly, _terribly_ slowly.

When they all said their goodbyes, exchanged hugs and smiles and pretty lies, his resolve faltered, and he realized that after all this time of silently waiting for a chance to set things right, he'd done nothing but watch and wait, had expected the solution to fall into his hands as if it were sent by the stars. He shouldn't be surprised that it hadn't happened.

In a way, he still was.

Yet Keith was nothing if not dedicated to what he deemed important; he just wasn't sure how to deal with it, so when he made the suggestion, it sounded more insecure, more doubtful than he had intended it to, but at least he said it, allowed it to fill the heavy silence between them, let it break through the “ _I'm okay”_ s and “ _this is alright”_ s.

"Let's keep in contact this time, yeah?"

He didn't give an explanation for it, he didn't make up any reassuring excuses. It wasn't about talking to each other casually—it was about healing together.

"Sounds good to me, buddy."

It was honest, genuine, he knew, but the words carried far more weight than that, conveyed a message that went beyond a simple agreement. Neither of them said another word, but they stayed motionlessly for a little longer, and he felt loose streaks of hair dancing around his nose, felt warm, steady breaths covering the skin on his neck, felt firm hands, long fingers eagerly clinging onto his shoulder blades, as if letting go would be the most foolish idea in the universe, and he knew that his own actions mirrored this, that they were both afraid of what would happen as soon as they parted.

Nothing happened when they eventually did, except for the knot forming in his throat, for the tight grip around his aching heart, for the pain the fake smiles and nods sent through his mind. This wasn't real, not yet, even though all of it was. There were walls up between the two of them, but they had both found the tiniest little crack in the wall. All they needed to do was go on, find and forge the tools needed to tear it down carefully, without breaking what was waiting on the other side; their truest selves, their fears and insecurities and their desperate, barely lit flames of hope.

They weren't mending, but they were on their way to it.

——————————

From then on, things changed, at least a bit. They kept their promise—Lance insisting that he, in a way, had all the time in the world, Keith pretending that he did, too, even when he was exhausted and barely able to keep his eyes open. Nothing mattered more than their small interactions, the shy, careful words exchanged, the glimpses of their past they found solace in.

Sometimes, it helped him fall asleep, finally, and some other times, it was exactly what kept him awake through what he considered the _night_. There was no telling when it would be each of those options, when his heart would calm down and when it would race, when his mind would be merciful and when it would torture him, when he would feel genuine relief and when there was wishful longing, but it didn't matter.

Even after the worst, least restful chunks of sleep, he would go on and pretend he didn't feel the pain, tell himself that one of these days, the clutch around his heart would loosen, although it hadn't done that in the slightest until now. He kept hoping. He kept believing in what he knew to be a lie, because he didn't want to push himself into the center, didn't want to make it seem like this was about him alone.

He'd always known that with Lance, he needed to be patient, understanding and kind, no matter how long it would take for them to go on. And Keith _was_ patient, he was probably a bit too selfless even, at times, when he found himself waking in cold sweats, but didn't ever bring it up, insisted that he was doing perfectly well wherever he was, and at least physically, he usually was. On some rare occasions, he was met with resistance, with one or the other former imperial fighter, but it was rare enough that Keith hardly let it count. Whenever there was even the sign of a fight, he had his family by his side, and they all made sure that each of them were safe. He wasn't worried or scared, he didn't fear for any of their lives anymore, and yet, he was unable to calm down and rest even when it was over, even when they took a break and he found himself lying down on cold stone and stared into the vast skies.

They would exchange small messages, most of the time, often not of much meaning, but sometimes, they would keep staring at each other's digital faces, enjoy the faint presence of the other while mourning that it wasn't anything but pixels on a screen.

They would share little somethings; Keith would describe the planet he was on, how it was similar to or different from earth, the local people, the questionable foods, the difficult traditions and rules, and Lance would listen and laugh, and it would sound real, most of the time, genuine and honest, and Keith would find himself smiling at it, the tight grip around his mind loosening a bit.

And then Lance would explain about how he was doing, and it would sound earnest yet disappointed, filled with the truth that something was missing, because there was no way for him to deny it. Keith would listen and try to understand, he would nod and hum and laugh when prompted, he would try to fill the blanks with botanic questions that had no deeper meaning, but were still enough to show that he cared.

Their calls would end with positive words and the promise to see each other soon, and Keith never intended for it to be a lie, but in every silence, he found countless reasons to not go back yet. Because he could see right through Lance, and he could see that the time hadn't come yet, that they weren't ready to address their problems and fears and what needed to be said, so he stayed out there for a while longer, for just another day, for just one more planet that needed his help, and he ignored that he was getting tired, that something was off, that he wasn't able to put his heart into it as much as he'd used to.

"You'll have to do it someday," his mother would insist, and he wouldn't even dare inquire what she was talking about, because she was clever, and she could read him like an open book, so instead he would nod, lean onto his wolf for comfort, and think back to times when it used to be easier, when being around Lance, thinking about him, caring for him had been natural, carefree and pleasant.

Keith so desperately wanted to go back, but at the same time, he didn't even know how to move on.

——————————

After his last travel back to earth, and the promise to schedule a time where they could meet, where time would allow it, Keith had expected for his next visit home to be planned out and well-considered.

What did eventually happen couldn't have been further from it.

"I have to go," he said suddenly, no more words than that needed, and no one argued with him, no one tried to stop him, because maybe—no, _most likely_ —they had known this long before him, when he'd been busy drowning himself in work just so he could try to forget, try to bury the truth he couldn't handle, try to let go of a past that could never possibly be a future. No one questioned him when they parted, no one called him back, no one was disappointed by him doing what he knew he had to, even when he didn't know _how_.

Half-way through his travels, he considered giving a call to announce his return, since that would make sense, but something kept him from it, kept his mouth shut tightly and his mind sealed off. His mind shouted at him to accept it as nervousness, as insecurity, but he didn't want to deal with that right now, and instead filed it as _unnecessary_ , and he would keep it there until reality caught up with him and called him out for his bullshit, because he was incredibly good at bottling up his problems, especially if he deemed it for a good cause.

And this was a good cause. In fact, it was the only cause he could possibly lie to himself to for, and so intensely.

When he reached earth, he realized that he'd never seen Lance's home, where he'd settled down, because there'd never really been a right time for that kind of visit before. Keith decided to ask Pidge, ignoring the suspicious frown she gave him through the screen, thanking for the information when she provided it, and closing their call. He could deal with her stares and questions later, maybe, not right now where his heart was racing and his fingers shaking and he was busy ignoring these facts vehemently.

The place wasn't what he'd expected, but when he took a moment to dig in his thoughts, he realized that he couldn't come up with anything he _would_ have thought he would find here. The truth was that he'd simply never given it any deeper thought before, and realizing that made him feel just a little inconsiderate, but that was another thing he saved for later.

 _Ignorance, thy name is Keith_.

The green lands were vast, yet it didn't take much to find Lance somewhere in the midst of it all, lost in the field of bright, pink flowers, longing for something unseen, something that was gone and they both knew wouldn't come back. A chance, an opportunity, a reality that hadn't managed to last.

Keith hated how much he could relate to that feeling.

He kept a distance, just for a moment, glad that none of Lance's family members had spotted him staring at the former paladin yet, because Keith didn't want this moment to be tainted by words, by thoughts or anything intrusive; all that mattered was this small moment of rest, the chance to watch the wind playing around Lance's hair, the way the sun made his figure look ethereal, the seemingly peaceful silence engulfing him, wrapping him into the embrace of a warm summer breeze.

But then Keith realized that it wasn't true, that he was seeing things the way he wanted them to be, that there was more to this and that if everything were that easy, he probably wouldn't be here, because he wouldn't be needed, and he despised the little voice in his head that tried to find anything good in this situation. As much as Keith wanted to belong, he didn’t want to belong _like this_. He shouldn't feel any kind of relief about the sight, and he wouldn't, no matter how hard his subconscious tried.

Something nudged against his shoulder—the wolf, staring him down with its powerful eyes, its presence putting Keith at ease while urging him to make a move. It was more an order than a request, and he nodded shortly as an affirmation.

He quietly made his way over to his oblivious friend—if Keith had learned a thing, then how to not disturb the silence; he would say he was pretty efficient at sneaking around, and hard to find if he wanted to be. But the grass to his feet did eventually give him away, at least partly, causing Lance to tilt his head just a bit in acknowledgement of whoever was approaching him. Keith wondered whom he was expecting to be there, and decided to show himself just before reaching his friend's side.

"Hey, Lance."

A short hum.

"Hey, Keith—what the hell?!"

Lance was on his feet in less than a second, turning around and backing away, eyes wide in shock, fingers tightly wrapped around a flower he was holding in front of himself, almost defensively so. Keith suppressed the urge to laugh, but smiled and nodded, affirming what they both obviously knew: He'd come back.

"You—what—holy shit."

And then Lance took two big steps in his direction and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, kept mumbling about pointless things— _"nice mullet, mullet", "were you trying to kill me there or what?", "why didn't you tell me you were visiting?", "goddamn samurai"_ —but eventually fell silent and let go, just enough to be able to stare at Keith with those deep blue, beautiful eyes. He was grinning, now, and it looked real, and Keith allowed himself to believe that it was.

"I was already on the way when I thought about mentioning it. Sorry for inviting myself."

"Nah, don't be."

He didn't _want_ to be, either.

"No Blade missions? You were so busy this whole time, I didn't think I'd see you anytime soon—n-not that I mind, because I don't, but y'know? I've kinda gotten used to having all the time in the world, but..."

Keith let him ramble, let himself be shown around the place, and he couldn't deny that he liked how peaceful it was. It wouldn't be for him, he knew that; helping people, being kept on his track was extremely important to him, and he couldn't imagine ever giving that up for a life like this, but he could accept it for his friend.

Correction: He _would_ accept it for his friend if not for how little it seemed to give him what he claimed it did—peace, happiness and a future worth living in. Lance was an actor, and a good one at that, but Keith was an even better observer, found himself reading between the lines and seeing what was hidden there. Because through the happy lies, the smiles and the faint hints of their well-known banter, Lance's resolve kept faltering—his eyes scanning the distance when he thought Keith wasn't looking, his hands clenching to fists whenever he stopped talking and got lost in his thoughts, his lips trembling with insecurity and desperation that he visibly didn't dare voice.

It was unbearable to watch, and impossible to accept.

Keith didn't say it out loud, didn't push Lance and didn't request anything, just followed along and exchanged greetings with all the family members he met, tried to remember their names, wore his best smile and tried, tried so hard to believe that it was real, but it all felt wrong and made him feel sick, yet he couldn't stop. Lance's niece Nadia came running up to him and tugged on his suit, shouting words in spanish that he didn't understand, and then, when Lance explained this, she stopped, pouted and tried again, whined and whined—"uncle Keith, uncle Keith, carry me!"—and he did, lifted her up to his shoulders and they kept going as if everything was just the way it was supposed to be, a happily screaming child on his shoulders, Lance smiling while they passed by a loudly-mooing Kaltenecker, and Keith knew he was smiling, too.

Because all of this could be so, _so_ real.

——————————

Visits became more frequent after that, sometimes announced, sometimes not, and things felt normal, alright, disconcertingly so, because with every laughter shared, with every word of banter and bickering and mindless talk, they kept covering the ugly truth in beautiful lies, hid it behind opaque veils and pretended that it changed a thing, that they would be able to forget, one day, someday, any day now.

Sometimes, Hunk or Pidge or Shiro would visit, or all of them or even Coran, too, but it was rare, even rarer than the times Keith found himself returning to earth. The meetings were heartfelt, and there were always so many things to tell each other, and they were happy, on the outside, stuffing all the bad in a bubble and turning their backs on it, on how it grew and grew and grew and would consume them one day, because what they couldn't see couldn't truly hurt, and they never looked at it, at least not as long as they were together.

Keith didn't ever bring it up, not until he was alone with his wolf and on the way to another planet, far away from the pain and the lies, because he knew that they weren't ready. Even if they were, he wasn't sure if he would have it in himself to tear open the wounds. They needed to be, though, they needed to be patched up properly, cleaned and rinsed and cared for, and time wouldn't be enough to do it, because, sure: _Time heals all wounds_ , somehow, but if you asked him, it was the most terrible cosmetician in the world.

Nothing changed, not when Keith was lying in the dark in one or the other foreign place, on sand or stone or grass, staring up into the emptiness of space and seeing the emptiness in himself, not when the wolf lay close in an attempt to comfort him, not when his generals accompanied him, kept him on his toes, and they quarreled and laughed and built the future for so many people who deserved to finally be at rest.

Nothing changed, and somehow, Keith felt himself appreciate that. As long as nothing changed, it couldn’t get worse, and he couldn’t drown in the realization that none of this was _enough_.

Traveling through the galaxies wasn't enough, not on his own and not with his found family. It helped, it was a big part of what he knew made him happy, but more often than not, he found his thoughts drift off to other places, places he'd left behind, places that, if he thought about it, had left _him_ behind. He would dream of going back and making things right, of shutting down the lies and facing the truth, accepting the pain and turning it into something better.

And then he would—he would go back, after being pulled into a hug or two or maybe ten, after sharing smiles and laughs and love, he would go back, full of will and determination, and he would face them once more—the traces of a happier past, the remarks about his _stupid hair_ and his _ninja sneak-up abilities_ , and it would feel okay, it would feel like home, and he would indulge in it, enjoy it, ignore that he'd promised himself to set things right, because there would be another time for that, surely.

_Just one more time. Just one more visit filled with laughter, with happiness and genuineness. There's always a next time._

——————————

There wasn't always a next time.

That realization punched Keith in the guts one day when Zethrid, Ezor, Acxa and he found themselves lured into a trap on a planet they'd been sent to supply. It was rare for any imperial rebel groups to attack, but it still happened; they just hadn't been prepared for it, somehow, and they paid in blood and pain and fear, and only when they were safe did Keith allow himself to take a deep breath and face the truth.

He was alive, and he would be okay, but the blood drenching the fabric around his shaking fingers was prove of how mortal he was, too. This time, they'd made it out—through teamwork, trust and skill, because they'd faced worse and they were experienced fighters—but there was a first time for everything, and this, right here, all of them tending to each other's wounds around a quickly set-up bonfire, was the first time Keith accepted that, no matter how little he wanted to accept it, each and every time he opened his eyes could be the last one.

The world wouldn't wait for him to say what he needed to say.

The world wouldn't wait for him to do what he needed to do.

And the world surely wouldn't wait for him to stop ignoring reality every single time it caught up with him and kicked him in the back, because every time it did, it took just a little bit more of him, consumed him and took the air he needed to breathe.

"Are you alright?" he heard Acxa's voice close to himself, calm and polite and careful, and he shook his head carefully, finally accepting that, even though there were so many good things, so many good times, he wouldn't be okay until he finally tore down the ugly papers on his walls and changed them to something better.

"But I promise I will be."

And he never broke a promise.

——————————

When Keith returned to earth for the first time after his latest near-death experience, he was nervous. He didn't know what exactly he was expecting, and he tried to focus on the small glint of hope in himself that whispered: _He won't notice. He will see it, yet he won’t._

Upon meeting up with Lance, being pulled into a hug and scolded for being gone for so long, Keith almost dared to think that he'd succeeded—that his natural smiles covered up what he was hiding, what he'd been through and how close it had been, but the idyll didn't even last through the night, because when he searched for the coast in the middle of the night, unable to sleep or even clear his thoughts, he found that he wasn't alone out here, in the foggy dark only brightened by the moonlight.

Usually, he would stare out onto the water, the horizon, with only the wolf by his side, but there was someone sitting on the footbridge leading over the shore, and even though he was barely a pile of clothes and a blanket huddled up miserably, Keith knew, without seeing a face, that it was Lance.

He moved closer to his friend slowly, the wooden planks to his feet screeching miserably with every step he took, and sat down wordlessly, his eyes focused on the reflection of the moon dancing on the small waves in front of them. There was silence, apart from water splashing against the bridge's planks, but it wasn't uncomfortable at all.

They'd watched sunsets on the farm together before, but never the moon, and it felt like a new beginning, of sorts, but also reminded Keith of all the times he'd been alone in space, of the things he wanted to say and wanted to do, but somehow, a higher force seemed to keep him pinned in place, legs crossed and arms, too, relaxed yet defensive.

Unlike he'd meant to, he wasn't the one to make the first move—instead, the shuffling sound of fabric moving on the squeaking planks was what caused him to look to the side, and before he could say a word, their bodies were pressed together and half of the blanket Lance had been hiding under was now draped over Keith's shoulders. He noticed how much he'd craved the warmth, and a pleasant shiver ran down his spine. If not the first, he decided, then he would take the second step, at least.

"I didn't mean for this."

And the words meant everything at once. _I didn't mean for us to lose each other for months. I didn't mean to leave and hide from what none of us could address. I didn't mean to leave after every visit without saying what I always knew needed to be said. I didn't mean to let you down._

But most importantly, and probably the only reason the walls had crumbled down mercilessly:

_I didn't mean give you hope and then return with the branding mark of what could have been my very last breath._

Lance hummed—a terrible, pathetic sound—but didn't answer, at least not in words. Instead, he leaned in closer, raised his hand to Keith's left eye and slowly traced over the scar that tainted the skin right next to it; so close, _so close_ that it was a miracle that he could still see with it, so deep and long that sometimes, he wondered if he would still be here if not for his generals having his back during that fight.

They sat in silence for a very long time, and Keith thought he might have fallen asleep right there, if not for the warm, steady breath tickling his neck, the finger gently tracing his newest scar, the arm cautiously reaching around his middle and clinging to him, holding him close as if otherwise he would disappear into thin air. The closeness held him in place, stopped him from jumping up and running, from screaming his lungs out and demanding answers from some sort of higher entity he didn’t even believe in, and slowly, the intimacy of their one-sided hug eased his features, allowed him to return it, to drop his head on top of Lance’s, to pull him closer by the waist and release the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“I’m sorry,” Keith said then, so barely audible that he wasn’t sure if it even reached Lance’s ears, but the answer was a scoff, one that sounded almost like a sob, and a very vividly shaken head.

“No, you stupid—goddamn.”

And then Lance pulled away, turned his head to the other side and let go of Keith’s cheek to touch his own, to rub over his eyes aggressively, and Keith felt even worse, if that was possible, but didn’t know what he was supposed to say to make anything better. He knew that a _sorry_ wouldn’t cut it for almost dying out of nowhere, for putting a burden on his friend that he didn’t deserve to be forced to bear, but there was also nothing else he could do, nothing more he could say.

“Lance, I swear I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he began carefully, because words had never been his strongest suit, and these were especially hard to find. “I know you have enough to deal with, and—”

“Can you shut your mouth,” Lance interrupted loudly, now a clearly whining tone to his voice, sounding broken and hurt and tired, but at least he turned back to face Keith, the beautiful yet haunting marks under his eyes a dull, sad grey, and Keith had to fight the urge to reach out and wipe the tears from his friend’s face, because he knew he would have his hand swapped away if he tried.

“Keith, you’re so dumb sometimes.”

He wondered since when that was anything new, but nodded nonetheless; there was no denying it. His choices in the recent past hadn’t been the best ones, and to top it off by showing up with a neat new reminder of the war out there not being entirely over? Award-winning, truly.

“Like I said, I didn’t mean to hurt—”

“Stop making this about me!”

He jumped a little, and Lance did, too, visibly surprised by the anger bubbling up inside him, a light shade of pink on his face indicating that he was embarrassed by his outburst, but he drew his eyebrows together angrily right after that, pouted and bit his lip before repeatedly pointing his finger against Keith’s chest, a warning he’d seen Lance himself get from his mother whenever he’d proudly reported about a super dangerous mission.

“I’m not mad because you showed up with a scar on your face, mullet.”

“You’re not?”

He shook his head and rolled his eyes dramatically, as if that were extremely obvious. To emphasize his point, apparently, he added an extremely annoyed, childish tone to his words.

“I’m mad because you stupid idiot _have_ that scar in the first place, and you didn’t bother saying even one goddamn word about it!”

One deep breath, another shake of his head, and then he was staring out into the ocean, the fake drama falling from his face, replaced by genuine worry and sadness. Keith was confused, not entirely sure if he understood this correctly. True, he hadn’t mentioned either the battle or the scar before coming here—he hadn’t even mentioned it _after_ coming here, thinking about it—because what could he have said to make it any better? There was no sugar-coating the possibilities of war, even if the worst part of it was over, and he’d figured that keeping it to himself until he could wear it without being bothered would be the best thing to do in order to not worry anyone.

“I...don’t understand,” he admitted then, because even if this situation was terrible and made him want to flee as quickly as possible, it was also the most real one they’d had in a long time. This was a chance, not a curse, and just the thought, the memory of being knocked out, of everything going dark for way too long, of being carried to a safe place and patched up and cared for, all of that reminded him that he had to take every chance he could, or else he would regret it.

“I wanna insist you’re kidding,” Lance replied, his voice reasonably much calmer, but still audibly hurt. He seemed to be done covering up the truth as well. “But something tells me you actually don’t get it.”

“I just said that.”

“Don’t sass me right now, samurai, I want to be angry.”

Keith snorted, but didn’t reply anything. He couldn’t claim that he wanted Lance to be angry, but that was a lot better than him putting on a mask and pretending that things were okay.

“What I’m trying to say, Keithy-boy,” and he cracked up himself about his increasingly unfitting nicknames in this kind of situation. “Is that...you know.”

And Keith waited for the explanation, patiently drew calming circles on Lance’s back, hoping that this wasn’t too much and they weren’t too close, but the explanation never came, and when Lance’s head dropped back onto Keith’s shoulder, it was hard to say if maybe he’d just fallen asleep.

“I...don’t know?” Keith tried a bit sheepishly, trying to tilt his head in a way so he could catch a glimpse of Lance’s face, but not a chance; he was staring down somewhere between them, maybe where their bodies touched, seemingly melting to one, but he chuckled a bit, a dry, insecure sound, and then gestured with his arm if that explained a single thing.

It really didn’t.

“Keith, _seriously_.” And he sounded nothing short of desperate by now, but looked up, the pretty red on his cheeks blooming, mumbled some sort of weightless insult and sighed before explaining.

“I’m _worried_ about you, numbskull.”

Oh.

Something told Keith that he shouldn’t be nearly as surprised about that as he found himself being, and he couldn’t help but feel at least a little bad for it. He was used to being worried about his team, his friends, his family, about not wanting to be a burden to them or let them down. He’d spent such a big chunk of his life alone, abandoned, that being cared for still surprised him every single time anyone brought it up.

“I—that...wasn’t my intention.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s really hard to be angry with you, knowing that you’re not even doing it on purpose.”

He definitely wasn’t; keeping his feelings to himself was just something he’d grown into for years. Hiding the fight, his wounds, how close he’d been to dying, he hadn’t done that out of secrecy or even shame—he’d simply wanted for his friends to not feel forced to worry.

“But, Keith?”

He hummed to assure he was listening, not trusting his voice enough to say anything. Suddenly, he felt very vulnerable—it wasn’t comfortable, and if possible, he would prefer not showing it.

“It’s okay, you know? Not to be okay, I mean.”

And somehow, that broke him. Where he’d kept it together effortlessly for weeks, for _months_ , those words caused him to tense up, caused him to bite his lip in shock and shake his head in disbelief. It came so out of nowhere that he couldn’t brace himself for it, and when he tried to take a breath, it came out sharply and, to his own horror, with a sound that reminded him way too much of a whine.

Obviously, Lance noticed it, too, sat up and downright _gaped_ at him in shock, which only made Keith want to vanish into the ground in shame. He never let his guard down, not around his friends; being the leader had, in a way, grown onto him so much that he felt like he needed to deal with his own problems himself.

“Keith, I—I’m sorry, for whatever I said that…”

He shook his head and closed his eyes, trying to keep it together. Comforting others was, albeit scary, nothing that bothered him too much. If asked, he would claim that he wasn’t very good at it, but he didn’t _mind_. He did, however, mind for things to be switched, because he knew how hard it was to find the right words to say, and how often these _right words_ didn’t even exist.

He doubted that they existed right now.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, his voice rough, making him pull a face at it. His eyes flew open when there were hands on his cheeks, and he was greeted by a very sincere-looking Lance. It was the kind of look he wore whenever he was dead-serious, and Keith knew he wouldn’t just get out of this like that.

“I will worry, though, and you can’t stop me. I know I can be super inconsiderate and usually make a joke out of everything, but you can still trust me, man.”

“I know.”

“Then do it, too.”

Ignoring the fact that he was tearing up a little, Keith frowned and nodded. He didn’t like crying—he didn’t like making anyone feel like they needed to pity him over this, but at the same time couldn’t deny that the reassuring words felt good, appreciative, and that maybe, he’d unknowingly been waiting to hear them for a long time.

While he’d made it his goal to be the one to listen, to understand, to help Lance move on, Keith noticed that he himself needed the very same thing—sure, he had his family out there, all of them making the world a better place, always there to have his back, but that was still, somehow, different. They hadn’t been there all along the way, they hadn’t been faced with the same fate and reality, and they, simple as that, weren’t _Lance.  
_

Keith cracked a smile at that, luckily way past being embarrassed about this realization. Maybe his awareness of those feelings was what made it both so easy and so hard at the same time, what kept him going and held him back.

They hurt, but at the same time, they soothed his heart, eased his pain.

“I’m still sorry. Really.”

“Save it, mullet, or I’m gonna cry, too.”

Lance sniveled once to prove his point, and they both hissed with slight amusement before falling silent, arms still wrapped neatly around each other’s body, calm breaths aligning and with nothing but the sound of the waves interrupting this moment of theirs, the shared intimacy and the faintest drop of the truth.

There was so much left to say, so much left to do, but they’d finally taken a first step, and the fact that they stayed cuddled up for hours after that, wordless and at peace, at least with each other, with whatever was between them, that was enough of a promise to take on whatever came next together instead of alone.

——————————

When Keith woke up, it was due to a mix of sun rays shining in his face and kids laughing quite loudly somewhere close to him. The combination was entirely unfamiliar, a little foreign but, surprisingly, not unwelcomed. He tried to sit up, but found his movement restricted by something—someone, his mind told him—lying on top of him, hair tickling his chin and a small pool of saliva drenching his shirt. He made a face, grumbled and moved his right arm that was still buried underneath the body next to his own.

Somehow, that did the trick.

“Mh, not yet—what?”

Lance sounded like a petulant child after being woken up, not that it surprised Keith, and it was stupidly adorable. Minus the saliva-on-shirt part, mind you.

“We fell asleep,” he explained unnecessarily, because yeah, that was pretty obvious, all things considered, but what else was he supposed to say?

“Cool.”

A moment of silence; it felt bald, a little stupid and ridiculous, and then Lance sat up so quickly that it seemed to make him dizzy, because he shook his head and covered his eyes with one arm to compose himself, but when he lowered it again, he was smiling, eyes half-lidded and his expression softer than Keith had seen it in a very, very long time.

“My back _and_ my mamá are going to kill me for sleeping out here, but damn if i wasn’t worth it.”

He sounded entirely at ease, relaxed, and it was so endearing, so refreshing that Keith couldn’t help but stare wordlessly, even after sitting up, even after rubbing the sleep out of his own eyes and stretching his body. Something had changed, they both felt it, and it was for time to tell in what way.

“Are you okay?” he asked without thinking, not sure what kind of answer he was expecting to that, and Lance seemed to honestly think about that question before slowly, finally, shaking his head, still smiling.

“Nah. There’s really no point in hiding it from you, huh?”

Keith shook his head.

“Well, then there you have it. I promise I will be, though.”

And he couldn’t help but grin, because it was the same thing he’d promised to Acxa, to himself, maybe, and he knew how much such a promise meant, and that it was real and earnest.

He knew that Lance wouldn’t break any promises, either.

They ended up getting the scolding Lance had mentioned, although his mother didn’t sound truly angry or disappointed. In fact, when Lance went to go play with Silvio and Nadia, all of them way too loud and way too energetic to only be three people, she turned to Keith with a smile on her lips, looking happy.

“Thank you, _mijo_ ,” she said, voice full of affection, and he knew he was blushing, because sure, he’d been called _uncle_ before, or even _bro_ by Lance’s siblings, but his mother addressing him like her own son, and in spanish, too, was somehow very different.

 _Different in a good way_ , Keith realized with a pleasant smile, and he nodded shortly, not sure of how to react to that, but she only laughed and pulled him into a warm, comfortable hug. It felt like home, just as much as his own mother’s hugs did, and he wouldn’t deny that he loved it.

“Hey, Keith, stop cuddling my mamá and help me with these living whirlwinds, will you?!”

She let go of him, patted his shoulder and nodded, sending him off as if he truly were her own son. It was overwhelming, but in the best way, and he found himself still in awe over it while being dragged into mindless games, races and surrounded by the laughter of a happy family that had welcomed him as one of their own without any questions.

Something told him that today would mark a new beginning.

A better one.

——————————

Change kept coming, and it kept coming slowly, but it taught Keith too much about both patience and the value of time for him to truly mind. Where months ago, he would have hesitated, he now found himself pushing through, saying what needed to be said, doing what needed to be done. That was true for many things, but the biggest change, arguably, came one night when he was lying in the midst of the beautiful flower bed, both moon and stars covered by thick, invisible clouds. He couldn’t remember ever lying in a dark so pitch-black, and since the wolf had decided to stay inside the house, there was not a single source of light illuminating the field, not even a glimmer or a sparkle. It was almost scarily comfortable, really.

It had been a fairly unspectacular day, something that Keith had learned to appreciate, considering how rare it was in the life he’d chosen. Being here on earth, carefree for just a little time whenever he could arrange it; it felt like the counterpart to the battles he fought out in space. Letting the sun set and later rise over his head, alone with his own thoughts and feelings, that was something he’d done a lot as a teenager, when life hadn’t given him anything for free, and he’d continuously wondered where it could possibly ever lead him.

Admittedly, the feeling was a lot less burdening now, but he was still plagued by thoughts that he didn’t want to let in. So much time had passed ever since they’d freed the universe from the empire, and yet in a way, so little had changed for himself ever since then.

The sound of footsteps on the grass grabbed his attention, and when he sat up, the first thing he saw was a lantern with a shimmering candle in it, and then he looked up to see a very worried-looking Lance who was approaching.

“You really make it hard to find you on purpose, don’t you?”

“Sometimes, yes,” Keith affirmed with a smirk, hoping that the candle brightened his face enough for Lance to see it. “This time, I doubt I can be blamed, though.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Lance carefully sat the lantern into the grass before sitting down as well. Wrapped around his shoulders was his blanket, as always when he seemingly decided to spend the night outside. Keith immediately felt a cold shiver run down his spine—he hadn’t even noticed the temperatures dropping.

“Do you always catch a cold on purpose, too?”

“I hadn’t planned to stay so long. It got comfortable.”

“Classic Keith.”

But Lance trying to sound annoyed didn’t really last for long, because he was already shifting closer and covering them both in the soft blanket again. He looked pained, and he was trying to hide it, but Keith nudged his side lightly and shook his head, wordlessly saying that there didn’t need to be any masks put up between them.

“I know,” Lance answered, head hanging low and hands dropping into his lap sloppily. He seemed lost, more than anything, unsure if he should say anything and, if yes, what. It was terrible to watch, so Keith decided to step in.

“You don’t need to explain or justify anything, if you don’t want to. If anyone knows how hard words can be, it’s me.”

It managed to make Lance chuckle, so that was a win, but he kept drumming his fingers against his knees, a nervous tick he often showed when he felt pressured to keep it together. Keith nudged his side again and raised an eyebrow, hoping that this time, he’d get the message across.

“It’s stupid.”

“I doubt that.”

“Ugh, fine.”

He watched Lance run his fingers through the grass between them, watched how the dancing flames projected pretty patterns onto the ground, watched their pinkie’s brush, watched Lance’s hand come to a halt, their hands resting next to each other’s—a small comfort, but comfort nonetheless.

“I still miss her so much, Keith,” he suddenly blurted out, so quickly, breathlessly, unplanned that it caught _both_ of them off guard, and it was like throwing an enormous boulder straight through the wall they’d been trying to dismantle carefully. Like stones crumbling to the ground, tears started falling down Lance’s cheek, from his chin to his shirt, and he seemed shocked and in disbelief over actually saying it out loud, but it didn’t last long, because hardly a second later, he doubled over, pulled his legs close and buried his head between them, and he cried and sobbed and shook his head, his arms wrapped around his knees, his fingers digging deep through the fabric of his pants, shaking, scratching, trying to get a hold of himself.

Keith had imagined this scenario, sometime in the past, but he’d never really allowed himself to think it through, had hoped that maybe it wouldn’t have to happen, and now he was sitting there, uselessly reaching out before pulling back, opening his mouth to say something but closing it after not being able to come up with a single word. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know if there was anything to do.

_“Keith.”_

And that was enough.

The desperate, real, unprotected way Lance reached out for him, finally let him in, past the shields and masks and all the lies, inviting him, _begging_ him to cross the borders and pick up the pieces. They were scattered everywhere, Keith knew that; a single night of crying and letting it all out would never be enough to fix it—but it could be a start.

He gently reached out, around Lance’s middle, and pulled him closer, ran a hand through his hair and the other over his back, whispered sweet words without meaning into his ear, the ones he knew had calmed him down as a child, when he’d mourned the loss of his mother, when he’d felt like there was nothing left worth fighting for. It took a while, a long, unbearable one, but eventually, Lance’s loud sobs quieted down to short sniffs, his breath relaxed and his body stopped shaking. He was still visibly a wreck, but that was more than understandable, after how long he’d kept all of this to himself, so Keith kept saying things that meant nothing but comfort, kept them close and warm under the blanket, and prayed, silently, that they would somehow find a way to fix this pain.

“I’m sorry,” Lance said after a while, quietly and ashamed, but Keith shook his head, felt his friend’s nose brush against his own pulse, hummed calmingly.

“Nothing to be sorry for.”

It was slow progress, but it was a beginning. Sure, it wouldn’t immediately make everything okay, but when they finally managed to ease into a quiet conversation, exchanging worries and fears and insecurities, Keith knew that one day, they would be okay.

——————————

 _Something’s off_ , Keith noticed with every step he took on the green, healthy grass, towards the place he’d long but grown to call his second home. The McClains treated him like a family member whenever he was here, pulled him into loving hugs, spoke affectionate words, included him as if he’d never not been there. Silvio and Nadia launched themselves into his arms after spotting him, almost knocking him off his feet, giggled and clung to him, calling for their parents in Spanish, most likely announcing their visitor.

The day itself was as calm as every single one out here, which Keith appreciated. It was the exact opposite of the cold, dark emptiness of space, and somehow, he’d accustomed to both of them so much that he wouldn’t be able to say which one made him happier.

 _Maybe both_.

He let out a sound of surprise when someone charged at him from behind, and almost had his _Lance-scolding_ -voice ready, but was swiftly pulled off his feet. Not Lance. Seconds later, Luis was laughing loudly and setting him back down before pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. He was impulsive and loud and radiated a kind of happiness and positivity that Keith had never seen in anyone else.

“Always good to see you. Can’t deny I didn’t expect it, though.”

“How so?”

“Hm?”

Luis blinked, but couldn’t explain himself, because his mother was already approaching, and immediately claiming Keith to herself.

“Welcome home, _mijo_ ,” she said, causing him to blush a little, but he still returned the hug. There was something oddly appreciative in her voice, as if she’d never been happier before, and when she let go just enough to face Keith, keeping her hands in his hair, a warm smile played around her lips.

“It seems like you don’t know, but…”

And he felt heat rise up in himself, a wild flame he’d almost forgotten lived inside him—it was empowering, encouraging. He knew what she would say before she did, but he waited, patiently, watched the single, blissful tear that left her eye, and closed his eyes when she pressed her forehead against his.

“Lance isn’t here.”

A shiver ran down Keith’s spine, the tight grip around his heart eased, a wave of joy engulfed him, and he knew that finally, the change he had so desperately waited to see was finally starting to happen.

“You know where to find him.”

_Yeah, I do._

——————————

Upon entering the Garrison after such a long time, Keith immediately noticed that the place was nothing like before—the interior had been heavily expanded and rebuilt, all kinds of people from countless places they’d visited all worked together for their future, and for a second, he felt like his fourteen-year-old self again; lost and unsure where to go, because nothing was like he remembered it.

The wolf was by his side, or maybe even a step ahead, almost as if leading the way. Keith didn’t fully understand the bond they had, but he trusted it completely—when they came to a halt next to what seemed to be a briefing room of sorts, he leaned against the wall, patiently watching the wolf. There was a moment of silence, then a bright glint of light, and with that, Keith was alone. He smiled to himself and shook his head, already expecting what came next. Multiple voices suddenly called out loudly from inside, and he could only imagine that the wolf had landed somewhere in the midst of a pool of people, startling them and announcing Keith’s return.

It was almost iconic, in a way.

The door next to him slid open and three people stormed out at once.

_Rizavi. Leifsdottir. Kinkade._

They all stared at him for a moment, then insisted on each giving him a hug—admittedly, Keith had never had too much to do with them, but they were nice enough, so he let it happen, albeit surprised that the wolf had guided him here. Before he could ask for who he was looking for, though, he heard footsteps and a loud, hectic voice.

“...no way he—”

And then a perplex-looking Lance stormed out of the room, looked in the wrong direction first, then over to where the former MFEs were vividly discussing Keith’s return, and gossiping about how Griffin was probably trying to convince the cosmic wolf to be _his_ pet instead, and Lance froze in place, blinked, blinked again, only for a huge grin to spread on his face, and Keith couldn’t help but smile at it, too.

Suddenly, the change hit him like a brick. Where Lance had looked tired, unhappy, feeble for countless months, countless visits, he was now beaming like the sun itself, his eyes shining like rays of sun that kissed the roaring waves. For a split second, he looked like his teenage-self again; young, naive, reckless, self-absorbed and cocky, and for just that exact split second, Keith allowed himself to travel back in time, to remember his own past self, the way he’d grown from despising Lance’s overconfidence to appreciating it, how they’d turned from enemies to friends, how they’d changed from fighting against each other to side-by-side, and how, somewhere on the long run, it had turned into something other than comradery.

Keith shook his head about his own former ignorance, about the way he’d tried to tell himself _it’s not true, that’s not how you feel, you’re exaggerating_ , because if there was only one thing that he knew for certain, then it was how real these feelings were, how raw and unguarded and genuine.

He was almost knocked off his feet by the force with which Lance threw himself at him, causing them to stumble backwards and cling to each other for support.

“What are you doing here?” Lance asked quietly, but all Keith heard was _where have you been so long?_

“Your mom sent me,” Keith replied with a shrug and pulled Lance close by the shoulder blades, suspiciously long hair tickling his nose, but he decided against commenting on it right now.

They stayed like that for whoever-knew how long, completely tuning out the world around them. The only thing that mattered was both of them, right here and now, crossing the invisible borders that had separated them for so long, shyly reaching for each other’s hand to be guided over.

The pieces began to fall into place.

“You could have told me you returned,” Keith scolded, but he knew his voice only carried the words _I’m so glad you decided to go back._

“I knew you’d find me, samurai.”

He nodded, because it was true, for the both of them. Even against all odds, they wouldn’t let anything stand between them, nothing would ever hold them back.

 _I’ve found home in you_ , their touch whispered softly, carried in tight hugs and warm breaths and the certainty that they both knew this, too.

_And you’ve found it in me._

——————————

Things were different here, no doubt. Instead of playing with children and tending to the crops and animals, the Garrison was more strategical. Lance hadn’t returned as a pilot, Keith learned, but instead taken over a few of the many new cadets of all sorts. Where years ago, they’d almost exclusively been trained for space exploration and as fighter pilots, there were now dozens of new classes offered, including extraterrestrial history, different types of botanic courses, and countless others that Keith was already forgetting because of the speed with which Lance was listing them.

For today, though, classes had already ended, which meant that they had time to explore the place—which, surprisingly, made Keith weirdly nostalgic—and meet up with the Holts for a small reunion, even if not all of their friends were around. Pidge cried— _”I’m not crying, you asshat!”_ —and Matt pulled Keith into a hug before fistbumping with Lance; something told Keith that those two made a lethal combination against every little bit of productiveness in this place, but it was endearing, too, and they all looked genuinely happy.

“Nice of you to drop by once in—what? Half a year? No, longer than that. Where’ve you been all this time?” Pidge scolded, and in all honesty, Keith had nothing to say in his defense. His generals and he had been busy supplying and freeing people all around the universe, and whenever he’d made the time to come home, he’d been...well.

“You didn’t visit anyone else?” Lance blurted out, tilting his head and raising an eyebrow skeptically. He surely didn’t mean to embarrass Keith with it, but he did anyway, and it didn’t help that Pidge started grinning at that, giving him the epitome of an _oho?_ stare.

“I...it didn’t really...fit…schedule...”

He gave up.

“Fine. We were pretty busy and whenever I could make it home, I preferred a family-run farm in the quiet nature over...this.”

“Yeah, the _farm_.”

“Pidge.”

She giggled, but Keith wasn’t really mad about it. So what? Yes, he’d scheduled his life more around his meet-ups with Lance than around anything else, but he was beyond getting _actually_ defensive about that, especially considering where it had brought them.

There was nothing to it that Keith would want to hide, after all.

——————————

Somehow, as if it had become tradition, Keith ended up finding Lance watching the sunset from a new, tiny park near the fully rebuilt Garrison. It bloomed prettily, which was most likely Colleen Holt’s doing, and it blended into the formerly empty picture so flawlessly that it was a bit breathtaking.

“It’s so different here, but I like it,” Lance mused before Keith could say a word, neither of them tearing their eyes from the warm shade of orange that veiled the horizon. They’d watched it from here once, although on the black lion, before departing for their final battle in the war. The memory was pleasant, but thinking back still hurt, because it was a reminder of all the things they’d lost in order to win.

“Different from home?” Keith inquired, sitting down comfortable and leaning in close enough for their shoulders to touch. Lance hummed shortly, inhaled deeply and then let himself fall back against the earth beneath them. Keith watched his features—the carefree smile, the shimmer in his eyes, his eased, peaceful expression—and felt a smile tugging on his own lips at the sight. So much had changed, yet so much was still the same, and he realized, with a warm feeling bubbling up inside him, that he wouldn’t want it any other way than that.

“I think...they’re equally good to me,” he heard himself saying, his voice so full of fondness that he knew it wouldn’t go unnoticed, but he didn’t care, didn’t _mind_. In a way, he’d said these words a million times, and yet he didn’t know if he’d ever truly _voiced_ them.

“How so?”

“Because no matter if it’s there or here, I get to see them with you.”

The words weighed heavily, but they weren’t burdening—they reminded Keith of the times Lance had covered them both in a thick blanket, out in the cold in the middle of the night, they reminded him of all the times he’d caught himself staring, hoping, wishing that one day, things would be alright.

They weighed so much because of what they meant, and that was entirely okay.

“Y-you mean that…?”

Visibly abashed, Lance sat back up, eyes wide in surprise, lips slightly parted, a light shade of pink adorning his cheeks. He swallowed and opened his mouth to say more, but nothing came, so Keith nodded to answer that question, but didn’t disturb the short silence. He felt a bit sheepish about it all, too, his fingers shaking and his heart racing, but he hoped that it didn’t show too much.

“You sap!” Lance shouted then, before pulling up his knees and hiding his face between them. The last thing Keith saw was the deep shade of red Lance’s cheeks turned, and it would probably be funny if it weren’t so sickeningly adorable.

“That’s bold coming from you, loverboy,” Keith teased, but felt a wave of pleasurable embarrassment wash over himself, too. At least they were in this together, no matter how different their feelings might be. They’d grown too close for it to stand between them, and that was why he dared reach out, lifted Lance’s chin slowly and placed a slow, tender kiss on his cheek, right next to the corner of his lips, and let his own linger there afterwards, eyes closed shut and mind fully at ease.

“Keith…?”

He hummed but didn’t let go, didn’t look up, stayed in the bliss of blind devotion. Hand eagerly pulled him closer, and Lance eventually buried his nose in the crook of his neck, warmth radiating from his cheek, his breath coming quickly, fingers trembling where he was digging them into Keith’s back. Lance didn’t, however, explain himself or add to his surprise, and Keith didn’t feel like disturbing the silence engulfing them.

They ended up not talking about it, maybe because they weren’t sure how, maybe because there was nothing to say, maybe because their actions, in a way, said it all.

Where once, a long time ago, Keith would have dreaded this—showing his feelings so openly, sending them out to be seen and hurt—he was now relaxed about it. Sure, he would have wished for better circumstances; for it to be mutual, for all of this to be based on good memories instead of bad ones, but for the biggest part of it, he was relieved.

They would be okay. Maybe not today or even tomorrow, but eventually, they certainly would.

——————————

“I’ve been thinking,” Lance said one time, shuffling through semi-organized papers on his desk while Keith was lying on the room’s bed, playing around with his knife. They had developed a certain routine regarding his visits, enough so that they were perfectly comfortable spending them casually, not doing much at all—sometimes, they would tell each other of the things they’d been up to, other times they wouldn’t speak at all and instead indulge in each other’s presence, and then they would fall asleep in weird poses and wake up with their limbs entangled weirdly, and they would bicker and banter and fight a bit, only to decide to end it in a truce before either of them could end up with actual bruises.

It was second nature to them now, and Keith found himself missing these times whenever he wasn’t here, which honestly worried him a little. As much as he’d grown to like being around Lance, Keith knew it absolutely couldn’t get in the way of his mission, under any circumstances. While it was easy taking breaks here and there—the rest of his team actually supported that, constantly telling him that he was pushing himself too far at times—he didn’t like the increasing pressure of longing, the way it pounded in his chest heavily, urging him to bring it up.

“Thinking about what?” he asked, pushing those thoughts away; one day, he would address them, but it definitely wasn’t this day.

“What? Uh, I spaced out.”

“You said you’ve been thinking...”

Lance turned around to him and their eyes met. He looked honestly confused, and a little tired, too. Considering he was teaching kids, Keith knew why—he remembered their own days at the Garrison, and doubted that it could be much easier now, with the amount of globally increasing interest in outer space.

“Right! I was thinking, maybe we should do another memorial visit to Altea. All of us, I mean. I know it hasn’t been another full year yet, but...does it have to be?”

Lance was hiding something behind those words, Keith knew and felt that. If Lance wanted to go see Altea, then there was a reason for that; honestly, even if that reason was simply _seeing everyone again_ , Keith couldn’t blame him. He, too, found himself mourning how rarely they managed to see each other.

“I’m sure we can arrange that,” he agreed and sat up, pointing to the spot next to himself. He wouldn’t push it, but he would definitely try to make Lance explain where the idea had suddenly come from—and if it hadn’t come _suddenly_ , then why he’d been hiding it until now.

“Don’t gimme the scolding eyes, Keithy.”

“You have three seconds before I send the wolf to lick your entire face.”

Lance cringed heavily and jumped up, almost _throwing_ himself on the bed. He’d dared ignore that warning once, claiming something like _“Kosmo would never do that to me!”_ , right before getting knocked out of his chair and being covered in wolf-saliva. He’d whined for approximately thirty minutes afterwards, claiming that it had ruined his skin’s moisture and that Keith would get that back.

Either way, Lance hadn’t tried ignoring the threat ever again.

“I hope you know you’re a monster.”

“Trying hard everyday.”

They shoved each other around a little, all playful without any ill intentions behind it, but eventually fell completely silent.

 _Maybe now is a good time_ , Keith considered, already disappointed in himself. He knew he should say it, voice it in at least some way, because as things were right now, he felt like he would burst one of these days, overflowed by unstoppable streams of emotions that were all out of his control. He flinched when Lance touched him, squeezed his shoulder and pulled him into a hug. Keith wasn’t ready for this, and yet it was all he wanted—touch, belonging, intimacy.

 _Eternity_.

His heart ached in a terribly pleasant way, he wanted to push away but instead pulled closer, tenderly ran his hand through Lance’s hair, took deep, calm breaths and imagined a place and a time where this could be forever, where he’d never have to let go, for any reason at all.

“You’re hiding something,” he heard against his ear, hardly more than a whistle, yet it felt like screaming, like all of his worries and insecurities piling up and chasing him down; because it was true, so _true_. He’d been honest about his feelings, for the biggest part at least, but he’d never even scratched just how much they meant, how much more there was to them.

Every time they met, it lit a fire inside him, every touch became oil that fueled it, kept it alive and made it grow. And it grew and grew, grew far over Keith’s head, consumed him whole and left him pleading for water to extinguish it, to turn flames back into sparkles, heat into warmth, to give him back the air he needed to breathe. But when it did, when the waves came crashing down, whenever they parted ways and he was already mourning the loss, the fire immediately died, washed away by a flood that threatened to drown him, muting his pleas to be pulled back up to the sun.

It was a terrible, overwhelming loop of things unsaid, of everything he wanted to do but couldn’t, and it was way, _way_ too much to take.

 _Let it out_ , the treacherous voice whispered to him. _Just a little bit.  
_

Keith considered, listened to their aligning breaths, felt Lance’s steady heartbeat against himself, took deep, calming breaths, and finally decided to give in, to spill only a bit of how much he was feeling.

Except when it came to Lance, there was no such thing as _only a bit_ to Keith, no restraints, no shame and no restrictions, but it was too late for his brain to stop his mouth, and before he could even try and hold the words back, he heard his own voice say:

“I love you.”

It wasn’t new, it wasn’t anything he hadn’t _shown_ before, but saying it like that was so different—and Keith couldn’t help but be surprised by how well it worked, how much lighter he felt right after saying it, how a burden fell from his shoulders along with the words. Lance shuddered, gasped and pulled him closer, which was everything that mattered. No pushing away, no distance, no hard feelings attached to it.

“God, _Keith_ ,” he said breathlessly, the words barely audible, and shook his head, seemingly still trying to fully comprehend the words. It was funny how flattered he was. Even if he usually played it super cool regarding love and affection, Keith had noticed that Lance was, in fact, actually immensely shy and easily embarrassed.

It was unfairly cute, really.

“I...can’t believe you.”

“I—”

“If you apologize, I’ll punch you. At least ten times.”

So Keith didn’t apologize, because he wasn’t in the mood for a fight, but he still let go to look at Lance, to stare into his beautiful, shimmering eyes, to give him a genuine smile and assure him that these feelings weren’t supposed to stand between them—they were just as much bothering as they were wonderful, and Keith wouldn’t want to trade them for anything in the world.

Before he could say that, though, he was cut off, by words so unexpected and raw that he wasn’t sure if he’d heard them correctly, their faces so close that they were almost one, foreheads leaning together and lips almost brushing.

“Don’t—” Lance started eagerly, but took a deep breath to calm himself down, shook his head and bit his lip. He wasn’t ready, but he was trying, he was pushing and pulling and doing his best, and when he finally nodded, smiled and looked up again to face Keith, there was resolve in his eyes.

“Don’t ever leave me again.”

There was certainty.

——————————

Even though their meeting with the rest of the group came all out of sudden, none of them made it feel out of the ordinary—everyone had secretly been craving this; seeing each other, feeling like the family they were, even if distance and time had made all of this difficult. They still belonged, they still saw in each other all the things they’d grown fond of over the years of working together as a team.

There was only one thing still waiting to be addressed, now.

Keith wasn’t sure why, but he found himself talking to the statue of Allura, standing proudly and beautifully, just like she always had. It was a bittersweet reminder of the friend they’d lost, but a reminder nonetheless, and he couldn’t help the smile on his lips when he talked to her, hoping that, wherever she was, she could hear it.

“It’s been hard for all of us since we lost you,” he explained quietly, only for himself to hear. “We still miss you; all of us. But...I think I’m finally ready to say...we’ll be okay.”

Call him crazy, but Keith would’ve sworn that he saw a star shining in the statue’s eyes, and for a moment, it was as if Allura was still here.

Or maybe, deep down, she’d never even left at all.

“You okay?”

He turned around to face Lance, who was standing far enough away to not intrude Keith’s privacy, but close enough to show that he was curious about it. He always looked a little uncomfortable when they were here, like memories of a better time were catching up to him, but today, he seemed relaxed, as if it finally didn’t hurt too much anymore.

“Are _you_?” Keith asked instead of answering, because they both knew he wasn’t the one most affected by this. To his surprise, Lance nodded and caught up with him, came to a halt next to the statue and put down some flowers next to it that he’d probably collected with the children. It was genuine, an act of kindness, and he didn’t look as broken as he’d used to.

“I am,” he said to confirm that, smiled effortlessly and then turned to face Keith, a new kind of resolve radiating from him. “I think I’ve been for a while, now, but coming here was the confirmation I needed.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

They’d come a long way, in short steps, filled with insecurity and wariness, but they’d done it together, and they would continue on doing so in the future.

“Ah, the others asked me to come fetch you. Picture-ritual and all, y’know.”

“Right.”

Neither of them made a move, and they both chuckled and then simultaneously reached out for each other, for the hundredth or millionth hug these days, but no matter how many, they were all equally good in their own way, because they all kept them close, kept them warm in each other’s arms, and kept them safe from whatever obstacles the world could ever possibly throw at them.

They were finally ready.

——————————

“You sure you’ve got everything?”

Keith rolled his eyes without turning around, but felt a smile tug on the corner of his lips. Somehow, letting go had become increasingly difficult for _both_ of them, but while he either didn’t bring it up at all or said it the way it was— _”I’ll miss you”_ —Lance had made it his mission to hide his inability to say goodbye behind seemingly well-meant questions and concerns.

Today was a _“I’m sure you’ve forgotten something inside, better go check to make sure”_ -day, which was, in itself, hilarious, because Keith simply wasn’t one to ever forget things that he needed for his travels.

“Listen, sharpshooter,” he said with a teasing edge to the words, but at least turned around to humor his friend for one more minute. “If you want to tell me how terribly much you’ll miss me, then just say it.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, samurai,” Lance answered dramatically, gesturing around wildly, but closing the distance nonetheless. “But for the record: Yes, that’s what I’m trying to say.”

“I’ll miss you, too.”

And because of how much Keith meant that, he knew he would have to turn back to his ship quickly, before he could even consider changing his mind. He didn’t get to do that, though, because Lance already grabbed his hands and pulled him close, staring him down as if the hardest exam question ever was written on Keith’s face.

Just to add a bit more fuel to how obviously embarrassed Lance already was by the direct words, Keith casually added:  
“Your thinking-face is cute.”

It worked.

Lance blushed, opened and closed his mouth wordlessly, eyes blown wide in shock, and Keith was short of laughing at it, of raising an eyebrow teasingly, but he was already being pulled close again, which effectively shut him up.

“You think you’re really slick, don’t you, mullet?”

“Maybe I do, loverboy.”

They both grinned, foreheads pressed together, and for a moment, it felt as if they were teenagers again, fighting about the most ridiculous things for no apparent reason and with no valuable outcome to expect, but it was carefree and it was good.

“Okay, then riddle me this, Keithy: What’s stubborn, sappy and has _totally_ forgotten something?”

“I haven’t forgotten anything.”

He blissfully ignored that he had nothing to say against _stubborn_ and _sappy_ , because both of these accusations were absolutely true.

“Totally have.”

“I haven’t.”

“Uh-huh you have.”

_“Lance.”_

But Lance only chuckled, reached up and buried his hand in Keith’s hair, held him close and raised an eyebrow cockily. They were so close that Keith could physically feel people staring at them, but in all honesty, he couldn’t mind any less.

“Tell me, then,” Keith suggested, trying to calm his feelings down a litte. His heart was being an immense traitor in that regard, beating so fast that it almost hurt, urging him to lean in and close the barely-existent gap between their lips. It was way too tempting, and Keith wouldn’t be able to say if he would’ve given in eventually, because the decision was taken from him, warm lips gently brushing against his, so lightly that it felt like feathers caressing his skin. He was surprised as much as he wasn’t, and he would’ve sworn his heart skipped a beat when he was pulled closer, the kiss deepening and his mind entirely shutting up.

Where there had been a fire raging wildly, there was now a wall of ice engulfing it, and they were fighting and fueling each other, neither willing to back down, both aware that they didn’t have to. They were burning and melting and flying without wings, and after all this time of fighting, falling and climbing back up, it almost felt like it had always been meant to be.

It was real.

“Take me with you.”

It was forever.

——————————

“Hey, mullet.”

Subconsciously, Keith ran a hand through his hair. It was tied up neatly, and logic told him that it had grown way too long to even still _count_ as a mullet. He wouldn’t break those news to Lance, though, who was busying himself with some sort of weird gossip magazine they’d picked up in a space mall a while ago.

“What is it?” Keith asked instead, setting the ship to autopilot and getting up from the seat to join both Lance and the cosmic wolf on the makeshift bedding they were lying in. It was surprisingly comfortable, really.

Lance didn’t answer, but pulled him down by the neck so they could look at the disturbing yet funny pictures of space models together. Somewhere along the way, all of this had become _normal_ —spending way too much time on a ship, being cuddled up for hours without a care, alternating between tickling each other mercilessly and exchanging sloppy, loving kisses for hours. It was natural, and it was so, _so_ good.

“Ah, by the way,” Lance suddenly said, dropped the magazine and grinned confidently, an eyebrow raised and his chin lifted. “I’ve been meaning to share some groundbreaking news with you. They’ll blow your mind.”

Keith rolled his eyes, but couldn’t hide a smile. He’d play along.

“Oh? I’m hooked, what could it be?”

But Lance didn’t start gushing, didn’t come up with any big stories or dramatically recited anything he’d read in the magazine. Instead—and that was _truly_ surprising, somehow—he cupped Keith’s face with both hands, stunningly pretty blue eyes never looking away, absolutely aware and accepting of his own feelings, and he said, in the sweetest, most honest tone Keith had ever heard him speak in:

“I love you, too.”

_You’re my future._

They kissed, and it was soft and gentle and tender, patient and full of love and devotion.

_And I’m yours._


End file.
